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The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
Witness if I be silent, morn or even,
To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught His praise;
Hail, universal Lord, be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd ought of evil, or conceal’d,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.
OTHER PARTS OF SCRIPTURE,
Happy, O! happy is his state,
Whose thoughts are always right;
Whose zeal the wicked ne'er abate,
Whom no ill words delight:
But who the law of GoD pursues,
In all he thinks, in all he does;
And, only earnest to obey,
Makes it his study night and day.
Like some fair tree a brook beside,
Whose waters nourish as they glide,
And keep it ever green,
Which blossoms cover in the spring,
Which autumn's golden honors bring;
So shall this man be seen.
For God, in whom he puts his trust,
ls ever good, is ever just;
And will his righteous servant give,
In constant peace and joy to live.
But hapless is the sinner's fate?
Whose thoughts to error tend;
To whom examples laws create,
Whom every wind can bend:
Fictitious hope his fancy feeds;
He restless toils, yet ne'er succeeds;
But sees the prospects he design'd
Dispers'd, like chaff before the wind.
Such is the order here of things,
Which from the wisest Being springs,
That evil works in vain ;
Goodness still draws its own reward,
While those who wicked ends regard,
Pursue and purchase pain.
For high in justice and in might,
GoD still to man dispenses right:
Still to the good shall life supply,
And let the stubborn sinner die.
How long wilt thou forget me, LoRP
Must I for ever mourn ?
How long wilt Thou withdraw from me?
Oh never to return ?
How long shall anxious thoughts my soul,
And grief my heart oppress 2
How long my enemies insult,
And I have no redress *
Oh, hear ! and to my longing eyes
Restore thy wonted light;
And suddenly, or I shall sleep
In everlasting night.
Then shall my song, with praise inspir'd,
To thee my GoD ascend,
Who to thy servant in distress
Such bounty did'st extend.
LoRD, who's the happy man, that may
To Thy blest courts repair;
Not, stranger like, to visit them,
But to inhabit there *
'Tis He whose ev'ry thought and deed
By rules of virtue moves;
Whose generous tongue disdains to speak
The thing his heart disproves.
Who never did a slander forge,
His neighbour's fame to wound; *
Nor hearken to a false report,
By malice whisper'd round.